


The Formidable Giants

by GhostPatches



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fantastical Sci Fi, Feral Obi-Wan, M/M, Slow Burn, Surrealism, Survival, obi-wan and his pack of strangers, trust building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2019-09-21 06:01:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17038055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostPatches/pseuds/GhostPatches
Summary: Every season is the same. Every routine fine tuned at the start. But with unexpected visitors, Obi-Wan is left scrambling to adjust. Survival for the new comers depends on him and he's going to try his best.





	The Formidable Giants

He hears the ship. 

Every muscle in his body tenses, his breathing pausing. 

He cannot see it, the tall, thick branched trees block any clear view of the sky. But he can tell it’s landing in the west, an emergency landing he assumes. There was no leisurely fly over, no browsing of a good spot to set down. 

The cracking of wood confirms it. 

He’s torn, glancing between the way he was heading and this new situation that has come crashing into his world. Finally, he turns and begins a careful trek towards where the ship landed. It would be best to get a head start on appraising the ship and its occupants, if they’re still alive. 

He’d rather not come across any unpleasant surprises due to carelessness. 

Not now anyways, not after everything. 

 

Jeomia seems like a nice place.

At first anyways.

Isn’t that how it always goes though? Everything seems pleasant on the surface. 

It’s located in the Unknown Regions, on the edge before Wild Space. It’s a lovely place with a large ocean, covering most of the planet, and scatterings of islands that range from medium sized to small to tiny. There is no large formed land mass, at least of continent size. From what he has seen, when he’s climbed to high vantage points, most of the islands nearby share a similar landscape.

They are covered with thick, healthy forests with grassy plains in between them. The structures are all jagged with high rising rocks, which shield well from the cold win that blows in, and the mountains that rise from the ground are formidable giants. The ones on this island dwarf everything, gathering clouds around the tops.

It’s currently near the waning part of the Middle Season. Breezes have begun to find their strength, and clouds huddle tighter, darkening in shades over the horizon.

Obi-Wan crawls over a fallen tree, which stands half a body taller than him around the girth. He allows himself to slide down the other side carefully, feet barely making a sound on the forest floor. Even with careful peering, he can’t make out the ship among the bodies of the trees. He isn’t sure exactly where it landed, and he doesn’t want to make an entrance. 

Walk a few paces, pause, listen, then walk a few more paces. Eventually, a glint of light across a metal surface catches his eye and he moves towards it, staying close to the base of each tree and in the foliage. 

The ship didn’t land in a clearing so much as create one. Obi-Wan can’t decide if the pilot is that good or that bad, but his lips quirk up at the thought. Trees have been downed, and the earth has been upheaved. There’s damage to the ships outer hull from the landing, but there’s also, to his mild concern, signs of battle damage. Scorch marks and shredded metal. 

Obi-Wan’s face scrunches up as he surveys it. 

This is not a ship crafted for battle. It seems to be more like a type of scout ship. 

The wonder of its purpose in this area crosses his mind, but any further musing is cut short when the ships ramp begins to lower. Obi-Wan crouches immediately between the tree and thicket he’s standing behind, reducing his range of sight but effectively hiding him. 

A man exits the ship, dressed in loose fitting tunics, and he stops at the very end of the ramp, right where it becomes Jeomia. Obi-Wan can feel a tight sense of frustration from him. The man steps onto the soil and proceeds to circle the ship, more than likely appraising the damage. 

He’s making large gestures, and Obi-Wan wishes he could hear if the man is speaking, but he’s not close enough. Certainly, if the man was yelling, that would be another story. 

The inspection ends and the man begins his walk back up the lowered ramp into the ship. Obi-wan tentatively reaches out to get a feel for the man’s signature, but the man comes to a sharp stop and whirls around, searching in the direction Obi-Wan hides.

Obi-Wan presses down lower to the ground, willing his heart to slow. He doesn’t move a muscle and drops the mental reach. Eventually the man gives up his visual search and with a last glance tossed over his shoulder, finishes his walk up the ramp. 

A shuddering breath is released and Obi-Wan crawls backwards until he’s safe enough to stand. His nerves buzz softly, before he closes his eyes, draws in a long breath that stretches his lungs and allows everything to slip from his grasp and muscles. 

When he opens his eyes, the buzz is barely noticeable and he turns, flipping the slim braid over his shoulder. The light is waning, and he needs to return to his temporary shelter. He hopes the visitor is smart enough to stay inside during dark. 

Obi-Wan starts his trek back through the forest, adjusting the pack on his back. 

Tomorrow he’ll come check on the uninvited guest. 

 

Mornings during the late middle season are his favorite.

The colors are vibrant, reflected off the clouds that keep gathering into larger and larger shapes. The mountains, tall, jagged, and a force of nature in their own right, take on the tint of blues and golds. Obi-Wan tries to meet each morning at the nearest lake, which he has named Jero, meaning ‘color mirror’. 

He sits a few feet from the shore, in half-lotus, staring out at the calm surface splashed in bright color. When Middle Season ends, this sight will be lost for a long period of time.   
With his eyes closed, he tries to recreate the image and landscape, but his mind wanders to the upcoming season, then to the day’s agenda and a list of gathering, but eventually it circles to the visitor. His curiosity simmers beneath the surface, twisted among the colors of the dawn. 

Obi-Wan gives up his quiet time and slumps forward, fingers picking at the grass beneath him. The visitor must come last, he doesn’t want to be away too long, and he doesn’t want to come back unprepared because he was distracted. 

Best case scenario, the man is able to fix the damage to his ship. 

Worst case, well, he’ll deal with that. 

With a final inhale, hold, then exhale, he pushes up from the ground. 

 

Middle Season is an explosion of plant life. Flowers burst from every viable spot, and any native crops grow quickly to try and pass on life before the season end. Obi-Wan is thankful for the hard work of nature and its aggressive abundance. 

Close calls in earlier years means he’s mostly figured out the appropriate amount of food needed to survive the next season. There’s been two close encounters with starving and he refuses to allow a third to happen.

It’s after midday and he’s ransacked the large, full leafed bushes for the small berry fruits they produce. He has a bag full, and a few have found their way into his mouth. Obi-Wan places the bags inside of the larger one he carries, gaze straying in the direction of where the ship is. 

He should go and set up his lake traps for the white-bluish shelled creatures that live in the lake, but he can do that tomorrow, he should have enough time. 

Obi-Wan approaches the ship from the southwest this time, crouching nearby a tree. The ramp is lowered, and the man he saw previously is sitting in the middle, the outer tunic he’d worn the day before is gone and the sleeves of his under tunic are rolled up. 

He must have been working on the ship. Obi-Wan can see panels on the ship open, and from his posture and the grating hum in the Force, it must not have been a successful venture. But at least it appears he was smart enough to stay inside during the night. 

Movement behind the man draws his attention and anxiety floods through Obi-Wan. A young Togruta descends the ramp to pause besides him, offering him something. A food item, as the man takes it from her and begins to eat. He wants to hear what they’re saying, but after yesterday’s incident, he’s hesitant to risk using the Force.

But when a second figure appears, his anxiety only solidifies, slipping into all the hollows in his chest. It’s another young one, a girl that appears human, dressed in a dark outfit, she hovers behind the other two, and they pause to look at her. 

Suddenly everything has changed. 

If the man doesn’t fix the ship, then all three will be stranded here. Obi-Wan wonders how much food they have and how long it will last, though in fifteen lunar cycles, it won’t matter. Food will be the least of their worries. 

The anxiety is spilling through his ribcage and he digs his fingers into the vegetation and soil beneath him. When he looks up, shock courses through him to find all three glancing towards his general direction. Obi-Wan forces himself to find the memories of the morning, the building clouds, the mountains framed against the skyline. 

He breathes in, holds it, then exhales, and repeats. 

The anxiety begins to seep out of him, for now, and the gazes are wandering, not searching in his direction anymore. It’s confirmed, though, that all three are at least Force sensitive, if not Force trained and he cannot decide if he’s worried or interested.

Obi-Wan backs away and rises, hovering in place for a moment. The situation has completely changed. He begins to trace his steps back the way he came.  
He will have to start planning for worst case scenario, and something deep inside of him hums in agreement. 

 

It is during a moment of gathering the round, cream colored fruit that grow on the thin, whip-like trees that it occurs to him that he could leave food for his guests. It will more than likely not affect his season preparations, as Middle Season yields more produce than he can gather. And the worry of their own stock will be absent from him.

Obi-Wan decides to do this in the mornings, with an assortment of the fruit and berries that are readily available, and the first time, he does so with great caution, hoping he will not be discovered. It takes him a good passage of time before he finally approached the ship, but he left unseen. None of them seem to be around in the wee hours of sunrise, and he gives up his morning lake routine to ensure he’s not found. 

A price to pay, but he is willing and feels he must do so. 

If nothing else, it will supplement the rations they already have and make everything last longer. Hopefully long enough for the ship to be repaired, though each morning, the progress seems slim. 

He’s scrounging around in the wet lands area of the forest, pulling murkish colored root vegetables up, washing them as best as he can in the brackish water and putting them into his bag. A tremor in the ground catches his attention, and Obi-Wan reaches out to steady himself on a nearby tree. The vibration rips through the area, the pond water rippling violently. 

It fades as quickly as it arrived and Obi-Wan glances upward, squinting as he notes the deepening color of the clouds. The next season might arrive early. That knowledge sets heavy inside of him, thick and suffocating. The hope he’d been cradling that his guests would leave unscathed is becoming bare threads. 

Their time is running out.

Obi-Wan’s expression hardens. 

He will need to make a decision. 

Against better judgement, he checks on them that evening. The man is sitting on one of the ship’s wings, the Togruta standing beneath the wing. The second girl isn’t anywhere he can see, but he remains on guard. Obi-wan creeps as close as he dares, wanting to catch whatever conversation this man and young one are having. 

“… unsettles me,” the young one says. 

“I know,” the man replies, “I don’t think sticking around to see what those clouds have in store is a good idea.” He sits back on his hands. “Unfortunately, the ship repair isn’t looking good.”

“We took a beating,” she agrees. 

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” the man tells her, a grin splitting across his face. “We’ll be fine.”

The young one hesitates, but then nods. “Yes, Master.”

Something twists inside of him at the term, and his jaw clenches. Trained Force users, not that it wasn’t obvious. They are aware of any ripples in the Force around them, any directed use of it. The unbalanced war between curiosity and apprehension rears its head, and Obi-Wan swallows, trying to relax his jaw muscles. 

From his left, a surge of Force rolls over him like a heavy breeze and he glances over, entire body freezing as he finds the second young one standing lengths away from him. She’s looking straight him though, expression mirroring what he supposes is his own. Shock, surprise, mild fear. 

Neither moves for a long moment, her hand is hovering near her side, and he understands the posture. 

Obi-Wan begins to move his arms very slowly, wanting to stand from the crouch he’s holding. Her gaze is sharp, following his movements. 

But then she calls out, “Master Skywalker.”

And the conversation that was muted in the background comes to a halt. Obi-Wan is off the ground then.

“Barriss?” The man’s voice returns, “Wh-“

The break off means the man must see Obi-Wan. He’s retreating from the girl, who looks steadier now that the man, Skywalker, has been alerted. The thud of feet hitting the ground comes from the make-shift clearing and Obi-Wan backs away quickly, not wanting to show his back until he feels there’s a safe enough distance between him and them. 

Obi-Wan stumbles over a large branch and Skywalker has reached Barriss, expression veering between wary and surprised. 

“Hey,” he calls out to Obi-Wan, “Wait, wait a moment.”

But he won’t. 

Obi-Wan feels the presence of a sizeable log behind him, and with a quick turn, he hoists himself over it. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he takes off running, hearing one last call of “Wait, please don- Wait!” but he pushes faster, wanting to dissuade any consideration of pursuit.

His pulse throbs loudly in his skin, echoing in his mind as he tears across the forest landscape, vaulting over trees that have taken residence on the ground, down slopes, and he splashes through the pond he’d been scavenging in earlier. 

When he reaches the other side, he slows, barely breaking a sweat and with minimal lung exhaustion. He hovers near the edge, peering into the forest to try and spot any movement, but there is none. He can’t hear, or feel, anything. 

Obi-Wan’s face pulls into a grimace, and he berates his carelessness. 

They are still strangers, complete unknowns to him. Stranded or not, it will not change who they are, and he doesn’t know what that consists of. 

His fingertips dig into his palm until the pain subsides into numbness. 

The sky is beginning to take on the sickly purple of Jeomia’s moon and he needs to get back to his shelter. As he pads off, there’s a soft rumble in the ground, and he can feel it echo between himself and the trees. 

 

The morning brings the first sign of chill. Obi-Wan makes sure to wear his over coat when he goes out to greet the dawn. His shelter is built in between a cluster of boulders, with wood provided by the forest he calls his home. 

He brushes strands of his bangs from his face and pauses at the entrance to make sure there are no unfriendly neighbors around. When it seems that he’s the worst threat in the immediate area, he ventures out and to the lake. He won’t take food to the strangers, yesterday’s close call unsettled him, and while part of him nags not to forsake them, leaving them alone for a period of time would best suit the situation. 

The lake is reflecting the dawn and a surge of something hollow and gentled rises up inside of him at the sight. Obi-Wan settles down not far from the shore, taking up his routine pose. He breathes deeply, imagining a fresh blanket of snow in his mind, undisturbed, sharp. 

The image slides to the terrain of Jeomia, old, gnarled trees. Warm, secluded ponds. Expansive lakes housing life beneath the surface. The formidable mountains, who stand apart from any rules in Jeomia’s landscape. The ocean, weaving between the islands, bringing with it the next season.

He feels the presence of something small, uninterested and he cracks an eye open to find one of the gray furred mammals shuffling around him. He is of little interest to it, and he lets it be. It’s more than likely searching for the vibrant green flowers that grow near the lake. 

Obi-Wan pushes himself off the ground, brushing dirt and debris from his clothing. He stretches, and then decides to go through a set of familiar moves. Usually he runs through them during the evening, but he feels a morning run through would be more beneficial. 

The Katas have been source of familiarity, a grounding in sanity for him, something he can cling to.

As has the Force.

At that thought, he thinks of the strangers. He hasn’t seen a trained Force user in many, many years. It’s both terrifying and yet has a gravitas that calls him. But being Force trained doesn’t reveal intentions. Plus their ability and power is nebulous for him. The extent of their training is unknown. 

As Obi-Wan comes to the end of his ritual Katas, he pauses and looks out to the mountains, and then to the clouds. He’s sure he can see a flickering in them. 

If only they had crashed earlier in the season, he could have led them unknowingly to the scavenge yard. But there’s not enough time now, and even then, there would be no guarantee that the strangers would find what they needed. 

Obi-Wan moves the long braid over his shoulder, fingers rubbing the scruff of beard along his jaw. 

Today, he will focus on preparations.

But tomorrow, he will take them food again. 

 

Giving the day in between seems to have staved off any knowledge of when he actually shows up. Being seen towards the evening might have been the best outcome, now that he thinks about it. The strangers will think he leaves the food overnight, hopefully.

Or that they scared him off for the moment. 

He’s sitting on one of the large rocks that juts from the ground, and this one happens to be located on an incline, allowing him to see above some of the trees. Obi-Wan is peeling the thick, waxy layer off one of the fruits he’d collected earlier. The texture of the flesh is stiff and it has a mildly tart flavor. 

His attention expands to the landscape as he chews, legs stretched out in front of him. The ground rumblings have been very quiet today and while part of him hopes that meant they aren’t going to be early, instinct tells him he knows better.

Voices rise from below and he tenses up, drawing his legs back up and pulling himself tight. Obi-wan closes his eyes for a moment, focusing on muting his Force presence, until it is the same color as the brackish ponds he spends time in. 

The voices grow louder and he carefully peers over the edge of the rock he is sitting on. The trio is walking beneath the rock out crop. Obi-Wan estimates in what direction they are and surmises they are heading back to the ship. 

What they were doing out here? They could be exploring the terrain. Maybe looking for something to help with the ship. Or even food.

Guilt simmers at the last one.

“There’s very little information about the planet,” the Togruta is saying. “And what there is happens to be very vague.”

“And not entirely positive,” Barriss, he recalls, says.

“Just means we get to be the first ones to discover the joys of this planet,” Skywalker says.

“Master,” the Togruta’s voice is reproaching.

“Do you not trust me, Ahsoka?”

The silence makes Obi-Wan peer over even further. Ahsoka, which must be her name, is standing with her arms crossed as she gazes at Skywalker. Barriss is quietly standing nearby, arms hanging at her sides.

The silence remains until Skywalker exhales, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I’m not making light of the situation,” he says. “But I promise both of you, I will do everything I can to get you out of here alive. Just because the records of this place are ambiguous doesn’t mean we can’t survive it.”

He levels a look at them, “Besides we know that someone else is surviving here.”

The hairs on Obi-Wan’s neck raise.

“There’s always the hope that our message got through and someone will come get us,” Barriss offers.

Skywalker grins. “And there’s that.” He turns and motions for them to follow, “Let’s get back. I don’t want to get too friendly with natives we’re not expecting.”

Obi-Wan sees the girls exchange a silent glance, and Barriss follows after Skywalker, leaving Ahsoka to hover for a moment, face flickering between uncertainty and confidence. She glances up suddenly, and he presses against the rock, going still. 

He holds his breath until footsteps can be heard and sees her following after the other two. He sits up, watching them disappear into the forest and towards their ship.   
It occurs to him then, that he doesn’t want to end up burying them. 

Adults are one matter, but seeing the anxiety on the young ones’ faces forces his decision.

He’ll make sure they survive the next season. Because they won’t make it off before then, not with how fast the storms are coming in. And it is impossible for any ship to leave or arrive during the storms, they will be stranded. 

Hesitation, caution, anxiety, and certainty all swirl inside of him, each one trying to rise above the other until finally he draws in a long breath, expanding his lungs until he can see each emotion being taken in hand and released. 

Obi-Wan exhales and stands. 

This will change his own plans and preparations, but he’s nothing if not adaptable. 

Or, he hopes so anyways. 

 

In the next two days, he begins to alter his gathering and scavenging. He will need more stock, four people is quite different than one, and they have had no adjustment to a new diet. He fears they will struggle with hunger, and the intake of a lesser amount of food. He’ll just have to hope they are resilient. 

The extra work is exhausting and there are moments he thinks he’s taken on too large of a task, but there is no other way, and he can feel the Force guiding him towards this end.   
He’s off in the brambles, looking for the orange colored root vegetables. His pack is full, but he thinks he can squeeze a few more in. The air is muggy today, causing sweat to trickle down his neck and face. If the buildup is this much already, then they only have a cycle before they have to start their journey. Otherwise, it’s very likely no one will survive. 

Obi-Wan is crouched, fingers digging through the dirt under the brambles, when the Force brushes against him in recently familiar manner and his head whips up, glancing to the left to find Skywalker stepping from around a tree. Skywalker freezes, eyes widening when he sees Obi-Wan. 

Obi-Wan is tensed up, base instinct telling him to run. 

Skywalker seems to be working through his own surprise, but when he takes a step forward, beginning to speak, Obi-wan is up and retreating.

“No, wait!” Skywalker calls, “Wait, just fuc-“

He doesn’t, the escape drive over powering his thoughts and he bolts, weaving around trees, and pushing through thick foliage. But as he gets the escape blindness under control, he realizes that he can hear foot steps behind him, and that the man is in pursuit. 

Panic threatens to overwhelm, but Obi-Wan clenches his jaw hard enough to distract from the emotion. 

“Do you always have to run,” he hears shouted behind him. 

Obi-Wan spots a large tree trunk that has fallen and makes a beeline for it. As it nears, he gathers up his momentum and balance, launching himself off the ground, making contact with the side to push himself up and over. As he begins the launch motion, his overcoat begins to tighten and pull backwards. 

Skywalker has gotten a hold on it and is pulling back. 

He scrambles to let the coat slip off, and even as it does, he’s attempting to get a solid grip on the wooden log. The coat is gone and he’s struggling onto the top of the side-ways trunk, foot slipping once before he’s able to stand up and glance down.

In the effort to grab Obi-Wan, Skywalker wasn’t able to get the momentum he needed to leap up, and he’s fallen backwards onto the forest floor, Obi-Wan’s overcoat clutched in his hand. He’s staring up at him, and they watch each other for a moment. 

Obi-Wan moves to leave and Skywalker says, “Don’t go. Please.”

And he freezes, anxiety and guilt swelling up, coursing between his ribs. 

He mouths ‘I’m sorry’ to Skywalker, unsure if the man even catches the motion and hops off the log, disappearing back into the landscape, climbing over large root systems, around rocks, and through the foliage. 

He berates himself for acting like a skittish beast, that if his decision to help them survive is going to work, he has to interact with them and not bolt. It has been quite a bit of time, though, since he interacted with someone, and the last few times left much to be desired.

The drive and instinct to flee has been beneficial, if not necessary, and he makes a small allowance in his self-scolding. Obi-Wan will just have to meet them directly and not by surprise. The element of surprise has been less than savory, and the caution cannot be helped. 

They are, after all, still strangers to him. 

Force-using strangers. 

He pushes his bangs from his face, his sigh long and drawn out. The cold is beginning to seep through his long sleeved tunic. 

Yes, he’ll just have to deal with this directly. 

 

The next afternoon, he loads his bag with some of the orange colored root vegetables, the cream colored fruit, and some of the berries. Making a positive impact with food is useful, as he’s learned from the wildlife here. 

Not that the strangers are like the wild beasts, but most things that consume to live are usually friendlier to overtures accompanied by whatever they consume. 

As he approaches the clearing and the ship, he pauses right before the trees open into the area. Obi-Wan calms his pulse, clutching the bag of food a little tighter. A war between decision and instinct begins, but as if to settle the opposite pulls, a tremor rattles in the ground, more violent than what they’ve experienced so far. The trees shake lightly and Obi-Wan reaches out to steady himself on one. 

Time is not a luxury. 

When the trembling recedes, he moves into the open.

Ahsoka is outside of the ship, hands hidden inside of a wing panel that has been opened. Her face is built on concentration and Obi-Wan is loath to disrupt her. He allows a sliver of his Force presence to rise up, as if natural and not constructed, and he waits, standing near the edge of the clearing awkwardly.

She whips around, gaze landing on him. 

He can see her fingers tighten around the tool she’s holding, but she shows no other signs of uncertainty, of fear. Obi-Wan admires it.

“Master,” she calls.

Footsteps from inside the ship, and an answer of, “What is it, Ashoka?”

“Your presence is required,” she simply says.

Obi-Wan’s gaze flickers to her, then away, and back. Hers remains steady.

“Required, huh,” Skywalker says as he walks down the ramp, “Why is it requ-”

His voice stops dead as he follows her gaze to Obi-Wan. 

They all three stare at each other, and Obi-Wan wonders if this was a mistake. Skywalker is watching him with something close to curiosity and caution. Obi-Wan feels he understands the combination. Before he can second guess himself, he takes a few steps closer to them, watching for their reaction.

Ashoka subtly takes on a prepared stance, lightsaber within grasp. 

But Skywalker motions towards her, and she relaxes a bit. 

“It’s alright,” he tells her, gaze never straying from Obi-Wan. 

Obi-Wan can feel Skywalker reaching out to him through the Force, appraising him, his intentions. Obi-wan allows another sliver of Force presence to be available, just enough that Skywalker will feel his open intentions. 

He stops two-thirds of the way to them, not willing to cross the boundary into their territory, too close to the ship. Skywalker closes the rest of the distance and Obi-Wan notes Skywalker is taller than him, and his gaze carries with it a level of sharp, wild, intensity. There is no fear, not one trace. 

“Are you able to understand us?” Skywalker asks. 

He almost snorts, but refrains. Instead, he nods. 

Obi-Wan slowly slides the bag from his shoulder, paying careful attention in case hostility appears. Ahsoka has taken a few steps in their direction. He opens the bag and shows Skywalker what’s inside, then holds it out to him. 

Amusement now creases his features. “Wait, you brought more food for us?”

Obi-Wan nods again. 

“Thank you,” Skywalker says, gently taking the bag from him. Ashoka is now only an arm’s length behind Skywalker, her expression taking on more curiosity than fear. She peers into the bag that Skywalker is holding. 

Questions run free through Obi-Wan’s mind. How is their ship repair looking? Do they still have food? Were there others, or are they the only ones? 

But his attention is drawn back to Skywalker and Ahsoka when Skywalker asks, “Is there something we can call you?”

It’s then that Obi-Wan raises his head up, baring his chin and neck, and Skywalker’s gaze flickers to the movement and he can see the exact moment that Skywalker sees the scars. 

“Oh,” is what Skywalker says, “Okay.”

A wry twist of lips is Obi-Wan’s reply. 

“Well,” Skywalker finds his center again, “My name is Anakin. This is Ahsoka, and Barriss is the other one.”

Ahsoka offers a dry smile, and Obi-Wan can’t blame her for her suspicion. Skywalker hands the bag of food to her, and she pulls out one of the fruits, eyeing it then, looking at Obi-wan.

“Are these supposed to be bitter?” she asks.

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows raise and he realizes they must not have known to take the skin off, how could they have. He motions for her to hand the fruit over and she does so with a shrug. He retrieves a knife from inside one of the side pouches he carries and begins to slice the skin off.

Barriss has appeared on the ship landing, watching them all with interest.

Skywalker catches sight of her and grins, “We have a guest. He also brought food.”

Ashoka is watching Obi-Wan’s movements, but says, “I asked if those fruits, the round ones, were supposed to be bitter. I suspect they weren’t.”

“That’s what I said,” Barriss says and moves down the rest of the ramp. 

Once he’s gotten all the thin skin peeled, resembling a membrane if cut the right way, Obi-Wan cuts it up into three pieces and offers it to them. Ahsoka and Barriss glance at Anakin, waiting, but Anakin reaches out and takes two of the pieces, handing them to the girls.

But then he points to the piece he left behind, “Can you cut that into two pieces?”

Obi-Wan frowns, but Anakin only shrugs and says, “Please?”

He does so, leaving two small pieces on his palm. Anakin takes one and leaves the other behind. Obi-Wan glances between them, finding they’re all watching him in return, as if waiting. Anakin motions to the small piece of fruit and Obi-Wan almost rolls his eyes. 

While the taste is familiar to him, the gritty, sweet texture coating his tongue, he can see the surprise and enjoyment on the girl’s faces. Anakin himself looks a bit pleased, but less surprised then the two young ones.

“Okay,” Ahsoka says, “that tastes much better. The first ones were so bitter I wasn’t sure if I could eat anymore. I thought maybe your taste buds were busted.”

Amusement creeps onto his face. 

Barriss is licking her fingers and she offers a sheepish look. “Sorry,” she says. 

He motions to the bag, then to all of them. That should last them today and tomorrow, he hopes, if not he’ll just have to bring them more. It occurs to him that he can also show them how to look for the items, but then the image of them wandering around the forest on their own, without any knowledge, makes him re-think that. 

The sky is deepening, light starting to recede and Obi-Wan knows he should start heading back to his shelter. He looks at the three of them, just standing there and looking back at him. He motions to himself then away, hoping they understand. 

“You can stay with us,” Anakin offers quickly. “There’s room.”

But Obi-Wan shakes his head. The idea of being on a ship, closed off from what’s familiar, and with them sets him on edge. He will have to adjust to their presence but not right now. 

“Couldn’t hurt to ask,” Anakin says, then ventures, hesitant, “You’ll come back though?”

Obi-Wan’s face softens and he nods. 

Ahsoka adjusts the bag in her grip. “Tomorrow? Tomorrow would be good. We have a clear schedule.”

Barriss looks at her, face void of humor and an eyebrow raised, but Ahsoka just tosses her a grin. 

Obi-wan pulls his lips back into a grin, somewhat lopsided, but it feels good, and mouths ‘tomorrow’. Anakin looks as if he wants to touch him in parting, but refrains from doing so.

“If we’re not out here, just get our attention,” Anakin says. 

Obi-wan mouths ‘okay’ then forces himself to turn his back, glancing over his shoulder once to wave, receiving a wave from both Ahsoka and Barriss. Skywalker just watches him disappear, back into the forest. 

The anxiety is mellowed, tamed beneath the surface, but healthy caution is over taking it. Their willingness and openness will go a long way, though Obi-Wan hopes their tenacity and determination goes further. 

All he can do is hope.

And do his best.

In the distance, there’s a low rumble.

Time isn’t a luxury.


End file.
